6 Months Ago Today...

Well, I've never written out my "birth story" before, but today is Carmen & Lena's 6 month birthday and it has me thinking about August 17th, 2010. Warning: This post will probably be long.

I really believed my babies would be born long before my August 18th due date. The majority of twins are born between 34 and 37 weeks, and here I was on August 15th just three days away from 40 weeks. A month earlier I started looking for labour signs, and as the days ticked by with no signs, I just couldn't believe it.

I had enjoyed a relatively easy pregnancy, with no nausea (unheard of with multiples - and from what I've seen others go through I am SO glad I didn't have to suffer this one). I had almost no complications and I boasted a healthy, joyous "pregnant" glow. I felt peaceful, like a calm before the storm. Once I hit about 37 weeks though, my optimism lessened by the day. My body had taken on a life of its own. I was ginormous, and to my disbelief, continued to stretch bigger and bigger.  I had a severe case of PUPPS, an intensely itchy, red rash that covered almost my entire body - and was particularly aggressive on my belly, which looked flaming red with skin puffed up along the lines of my stretch marks... I'll spare you the photo I took of my belly at the end of it all. It was summer and the heat + rash + super pregnant combo started getting old fast. My doctor was trying to persuade me to induce with every visit, but I continued to insist I wanted labour to start naturally. The tipping point was when I started showing signs of pre-eclempsia and my kidneys and liver started to show abnormalities. I felt as though the life was being sucked out of my body - and in a way, it was.

August 2010

With pressure from my doctor to induce, and pressure from my doula to wait, I didn't know what to do. Finally I got a call from BC Women's Hospital on Monday morning, August 16th, from a very kind nurse named Nancy, who encouraged me to come in to the hospital. To Orlando's relief, I agreed (he hated seeing me in such pain and was anxious for the babies to arrive). We took one final picture of me before heading over to my brother's house to pick up Jennifer, my sister-in-law who was going to be supporting me during the birth.

After I ate some pizza (bad idea), we were on our way to the hospital. Jen drove and I was nervous the entire way. In the waiting room I tried to relax and get comfortable which was very difficult. Finally we were admitted to a room and as we walked (waddled) up to it, I realized they were putting me into the exact same room where Jennifer gave birth to my nephew just eight months earlier! My doctor and doula both arrived shortly after I was admitted and stood on either side of me as I lay on the hospital bed. My doctor insisted that it would be best for my health to induce. My doula brought a very awkward tension into the room. She did not care about his medical opinion and made it quite obvious she thought she knew better than him (for more on Dr. vs Doula, see previous posts). I was stuck in the middle trying to decide if I wanted Baby A's water broken. No one could make the decision for me. I looked at Jen and asked what she thought, and she said "We came here to have babies". That was exactly what I needed to hear. Within minutes, the first sac (Baby A's) was broken and I felt a gush of hot water pour onto the floor. My doctor and doula both left.

Orlando and I spent a lot of time laying in that room waiting for contractions to pick up. When we could, we walked around outside. It was a warm, beautiful late-summer day. This is when my memory starts to become hazy. From what I recall, the contractions started picking up on their own, but were not that intense. Later in the evening I was put on oxytocin to intensify the contractions - and it worked. My contractions were coming in waves of three at a time - a huge spike of pain, followed by another, lighter wave of pain and finally a long, groaning contraction. Apparently back-to-back contractions are common with multiple babies. I would try to get comfortable during contractions to get through them, until I realized it is impossible to get comfortable during a contraction and just gave in. In between contractions I tried to rest but it was also very difficult. Sometimes I think I would actually fall asleep, then SPIKE another contraction would shoot through me. I recall opening my hands and reaching up into the air like a religious zealot praising the lord. I repeated the word OPEN in my head over and over, trying to OPEN with the pain. Orlando, Jen and nurse after nurse (shifts changed over the course of the hours I laboured) helped me as much as they could. Some were wonderful. Some tried having serious conversations with me during contractions and I had to tell them to shut up. The monitors they had attached around my belly tightly with elastic were SO uncomfortable as they irritated my rash and put pressure on my way-too-enlarged belly. I begged them to take them off at every chance I could - but the nurses persisted that they were necessary. I remember being so out of it, and then suddenly completely alert. I bet it was strange to see me moaning through contractions, in my own world, and then suddenly say something direct to Orlando, Jen or one of the doctors. It was moments of, "Oh, here I am!". When I puked up my pizza, I remember seeing a pineapple and saying "Oh cute, a pineapple!".

At one point during the night, one of the baby's heartrates started dropping during contractions to an uncomfortably low level. An ultrasound machine was brought in and it was discovered that Baby B was footling breech (we had previously thought both babies were head-down). I had decided long before that if one of the babies was not head-down I was going to get an epidural. I could manage the pain of contractions - I was confident my body knew what to do when it came to child birth. But the doctors would physically manipulate the second baby by pushing on my stomach and reaching in to turn it and pull it out. I couldn't handle the thought of that kind of pain. So an epidural it was. The hardest thing about it was that I had to sit still to get it put in. I would feel a contraction coming on and ask the anesthesiologist to hold on while the contraction rushed over me, then again try to sit still. After the epidural was in I felt a lot of relief and was able to rest. Hours went by - I think I slept. I remember seeing Jen asleep in a chair across the room, and Orlando asleep on a little mattress beside my bed.

Finally I was fully dilated and ready to push. I looked at the clock. 2:50pm. I remember looking at that clock as I pushed - and I remember Jen telling me not to look at the clock. After about an hour, I noticed one of the doctors yawn and I asked him jokingly if he was getting tired. Throughout the two hours, Orlando stood to my right, Jen on my left and I pulled their arms so hard I am surprised they didn't break right off. My feet were up on their hips and I pushed so hard I'm surprised they didn't get knocked over. I pushed over and over, with every contraction, barely resting between. Even when the doctors just asked for one or two, I gave them two or three pushes. I pushed with all the strength I had in me. I hadn't eaten in over 24hrs and was starving, exhausted and aching. But I pushed Baby A out after two hours and just three minutes later Baby B was pulled out by her feet.

I had hardly held a newborn in my life. And here the nurses were handing me two. I had no idea how to hold them or what to do. And that was only the beginning.